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Abruptly, Owen lifted his head and met my gaze. “Did we…” The fear in his eyes intensified, and his voice came out shaky. “Did we break up?”
My breath stuck in my throat. Christ. He really didn’t remember. In his mind, we were still everything I’d wrecked a year ago.
Owen’s shoulders sagged. “We did, didn’t we?” He got up. “Shit. I’m sorry.” Starting for the door, he said, “I shouldn’t have come here, and—”
“Owen.” I touched his arm. “Stay. I’ll—”
“I’m sorry,” he rambled on. “I should’ve guessed we had, but I just saw that everything was different, and I freaked out, and—”
“Hey. Hey.” I gave his arm a squeeze. “You don’t have to go. I’ll… I want to help you figure this out.”
He searched my eyes, a hint of tears brimming his along with the fear and confusion, as if our breakup was one revelation too many. “What happened to us?”
I froze. Did I tell him the truth? Because I didn’t want to lie to him and pretend we were friendly when he had every reason to hate me. At the same time, in Owen’s mind, we were exactly where we’d been the night after the conference. Which meant if I told him the truth, I was going to hurt him all over again. And this time, I’d be dropping that bomb while he was also dealing with his lost memory. He’d been in a good mood a year ago. Calm and chill, with no idea what was coming. One awful conversation later… Well. It hadn’t been pretty.
So what would happen if I did that to him when he was already on the verge of collapsing? I couldn’t begin to imagine how terrified and confused he was. He’d come to me because he thought we were still together, and because he was trusting me to help him at his absolute worst and most vulnerable.
I didn’t deserve his trust, but he didn’t deserve to find out that particular truth right now. Not like this.
Finally, I just said, “We realized we weren’t right for each other. A few months ago.”
Owen’s face fell. His shoulders drooped. Though he was a far cry from the devastated mess he’d been a year ago, he was obviously crushed.
In that moment, I wondered if this was harder for him than the real thing had been. If it had been less painful to for him to call me every name in the book, throw me out, and hate my guts, because he’dwantedme gone. Good riddance to bad rubbish, even though he’d also been hurt and devastated. This time, as far as he knew, we’d been as good as we were before I’d gone to Toronto, and now it was inexplicably over. He’d lost the version of me he loved without knowing he had any reason to hate me.
Goddammit.
I couldn’t help myself—I pulled him into a hug, ignoring the way my arm hurt when I pressed it against his back. “I still care about you. This thing you’re dealing with—I’m not going anywhere. I promise.”
Owen exhaled, relaxing against me. “Thank you. Whatever happened to us, I have no idea how I’d deal with this without you.”
I squeezed my eyes shut and held him tighter as guilt burned even deeper and hotter than it had for the past year. I hoped that somehow, when all this was over, he’d forgive me for not telling him now.
The only thing I knew for sure was that sooner or later, he was going to find out for the first time—again—that I’d made the biggest mistake of my life.
Even if he couldn’t remember, he was going to know I’d cheated on him.
God, Owen. I am so sorry…
Chapter 3
Owen
Alone in Matteo’s office, I did the same thing I’d done several times since this bizarre day had started—I closed my eyes andbreathed.
Matteo had understandably needed to step out and handle some patients, but he’d assured me he’d get out of here as soon as he could. That we’d figure this out one way or another. He just didn’t want to leave his patients high and dry, and I got that. It was something I’d always adored about him—how he prioritized animals and their safety and comfort.
He’d cleared his schedule as best he could, but there were some patients only he could deal with. The hellhound coming in today was one of them. None of the other vets in the clinic would deal with that violent creature, and Matteo had agreed to become his exclusive provider in exchange for never having to work on another basilisk. A fair trade, I thought, but it meant he couldn’t just leave on a moment’s notice.
Another on-call vet was on her way in, fortunately. Once she was here, and after Matteo had dealt with the hellhound, he’d be able to take off. Then we could try to figure out this bullshit situation.
In the meantime, I hung out in his office and tried to pull my head together. Not that I was having much luck in that department, because what the hell?
Now that I was here, I did feel… Well, I wouldn’t say I felt better. Marginally less panicked, sure, and less like I had to figure this out alone, but also like I’d had yet another rug yanked out from under me. On one hand, I couldn’t believe I hadn’t made the connection that Matteo and I had split up when I’d realized there was no sign of him in the condo. On the other, I still couldn’t process it. When? How? The missing year of my life seemed irretrievably gone now that I realized I’d forgotten something so significant. Breaking up with Matteo? That was something that should have had its own cataclysmic dot on my timeline, but it was just…gone.
We must’ve been amicable, at least. He’d agreed to help me instead of telling me to pound sand, so that had to count for something. But I struggled to imagine how our relationship could’ve soured enough for us to call it quits. Intellectually, I understood people could tap out of relationships after any length of time. Hell, my aunt and uncle split up six months after their fortieth anniversary. It was just hard to imagine us going from blissfully happy to “eh, we’re not right for each other, let’s just be friends” in a matter of months.
Especially since Matteo wasn’t in my contact list anymore.
